The Raven's Cry
by iJapan
Summary: "Who are you? Who are you really?" Ten years of nightmares and the ever-present goal to claim Raven as his Chain almost blinds Gilbert to reality. Sometimes a simple memory is all it takes to remind him of who he truly is, and the bond he shares with his younger self. Angsty oneshot. Gilcest (Adult!Gil x Young!Gil). Warnings inside. No sex. R&R! No flames please!


**A/N: I don't even know where the idea for this came from. I just had the urge to write some Gilcest, and because my mind is a weird place I wanted to take a break from writing just sex only to replace my next oneshot with angst instead. Go figure! This isn't a very good piece of work, I will admit - but if someone out there likes this then I would be absolutely thrilled! :D I might write another Gilcest fic sometime later on down the track. Hopefully one much better than this one. ANYWAY! Enjoy! **

**Pairing: **Adult!Gil x Teen!Gil

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Mild coarse language, kissing, OOCness

* * *

**The Raven's Cry**

There were many things he loved about the sun.

The way the golden light would caress his skin, warming his body to the very core on a clear blue summer's day.

The way the rays would dazzle his eyes – making him blink harshly to try and clear his vision of the spots dotting and dancing across his sight.

The way the sun would catch the brilliant gold of that boy's hair, eyes deep pools of liquid emerald shining brightly in pure excitement, intense orbs of green smiling at him as that sweet voice would call out his name, beckoning him closer; _"Gil! Come on! I'll leave you behind if you don't hurry up!"_

It was all Gilbert could do to stop himself from rushing forwards, drawn entirely by the sight of his master running carefree and fearless across the grassy plains – the red-washed brick of the manor fading fast behind them. The servant boy would blink, his slight and frail body freezing for the briefest of seconds. Seconds which would stretch into minutes until he would be roused from his thoughts, an embarrassed shriek parting his lips as small hands would wrap around his arm, brilliant, clear laughter resounding in his ears as his master would roll those captivating green eyes and pull him along behind him.

And even as he tried to maintain some semblance of servitude, tried to ensure his master, his light, his _sun _would stay safe when he was playing and running in those grassy fields, the infectious warmth of the golden haired boy would effectively sap him free of those draining worries, leaving him feeling light-hearted, joyous, and utterly content.

Yes, if even for a moment – he could finally forget about right and wrong, chores and discipline. He could allow himself to _live_. If even for a moment, and always for eternity. Just as long as Oz would stay by his side.

There were indeed many things he had loved about the sun.

But even eternity it would seem, could come to an end.

His light soon faded into pure darkness. And what he had once loved with all his heart, his body, his mind, his _soul_… grew into hatred.

Now… now he hated the light and all it stood for. For on that day, the sun had set.

And had never risen for him again.

"_Your crime… is your very existence!"_

And as the screams of a tormented master broken beyond all repair fell into a dead silence, swallowed whole by the gaping maw of the path to Abyss, Gilbert Nightray would awaken with feverish gasps for air, his body sweat-slicked against the crumpled folds of the mattress suffocating him.

Golden eyes wide and wild darted to and fro around the empty lifeless walls of his house, a large pale hand gripping at the age-old scar marring his otherwise smooth chest – the one painful reminder of _that _day ten years ago. The reminder that would spur these unforgiving nightmares, drowning him under the weight of his own distressed mind.

A broken cry, a hoarse scream for mercy echoed around those dead walls – the man once again going unheard, uncomforted. Just as he knew he would. Just as he knew he deserved.

He collapsed back against the damp sheets, and his body would shake. Tears – fast, merciless, hot – would flow freely against the pillow as he curled in upon himself, shutting down as the guilt, the pain, the rage and the horror would once again take hold and consume him.

"_O-Oz_…"

Never again would he envision that memory of a summer's afternoon ten years ago. He tried to see gold, but all he saw was blood.

Because that memory… was of the day that he had lost everything.

* * *

"_Who are you? Who are you really?"_

"… _What?"_

"_You seem familiar. But… different."_

"_What are you… what are you talking about? I'm—"_

"_No… you're not. Not anymore at least."_

"_Wait… where are you going? Wait… WAIT!"_

He sighed, long fingers threading through the long strands of his wavy black locks as he bowed his head, golden eyes closing as he allowed himself a few minutes of rest.

His training was proceeding well – just a bit longer and he would be almost there. He was close… so close now. A few more contracts filled out, a few more bloodstained hands to be washed of the crimes he would have committed, and he would have it. The means to an end – the end of the nightmares and the final key to unlocking the cage he had built around himself. The cage being that of Raven – his sole ray of light in the overwhelming darkness which had remained ever present since that fateful day.

Ten years.

Ten years and he would finally free him.

Gilbert exhaled sharply, fisting his fingers through his unruly locks and squeezing his sharp golden eyes shut. He focused on his breathing, expertly slowing the intake of air to his lungs to cease the feverish pounding of his heart.

He ignored the body laid bloodied and torn before him, the barrel of his gun still smoking and filling the air with the rancid scent of gunpowder. Ten years had changed him – he was no longer the timid, shy, naïve little servant boy that he had once been.

He scoffed, pulling out a cigarette from the packet hidden in the folds of his black coat, holding a lighter and inhaling a deep draught of the smoke when he had lit it. With each pull of nicotine he felt a sense of clarity wash over him, his mind all but lulling into a relaxed state of existence as he leant back against the cold brick wall, the afternoon sunlight filtering down through the narrow alleyway he had fired that lethal shot in.

He cast an unconcerned glance towards the remains of the illegal contractor. Male. Twenty five years old. Brown haired and blue eyed. Chain codenamed _Achilles _by Pandora. Gilbert's gaze swept over towards the slow, steady trickle of crimson seeping from the man's skull.

He was improving his marksmanship – he might even be able to rival Vincent now – but it mattered nothing to him. He had a job, and as long as he _completed _that job, by any means possible, it was one step closer to obtaining that goal which he had spent the last ten miserable years of his life hurtling towards.

He inhaled another long draught of his cigarette.

So why was he suddenly feeling so anxious?

He ran over the words he had heard last night again in his head – the cry for the young boy to wait, to turn back around and explain to him this madness.

It had started out innocent enough. He was always prone to nightmares. In fact he had never had a solid night's sleep since the day Oz Vessalius was dragged into hell itself. But this time… the Nightray couldn't help but notice these dreams were… different.

It would begin the same as always.

Screaming. Never ending screaming. A yell for the blond to wait – to stop and drop the sword he was about to swing. Then pain. Sharp, searing pain as that cold metal tore across his chest, the blood flowing freely and soaking his ivory robes scarlet.

He would hear a soul-shattering wail of anguish. Chanting. A cruel, cold voice condemning that boy for an eternity of sin he knew nothing about. Then… the chains. The chilling clanking of metal as they bound and sealed the boy's fate – even as Griffon's roars echoed around the expanse of that defiled cathedral, the chasm opening up underneath the teenager's feet and dragging him down to the underworld below.

It was at this point that Gilbert would begin shaking – the memory of that nightmare too overwhelming, too _real_. He was forced to watch it again and again – he knew he was slowly being driven insane. Ah well… it was a small price to pay for being unable to protect his master.

And then… the nightmare would change. The vision would distort, condense, dissolve, and fade away to nothing. Nothing but black.

And _he _would show up.

"_Who are you? Who are you really?"_

Gilbert shivered, subconsciously drawing his coat closer around himself though it was not cold in that sunlit alleyway.

He would see himself. As he had been then.

Black hair framing his cheeks, bangs covering his eyes – the wide golden irises barely visible under the mass of raven locks. A child of only 14 years of age. Frail, skinny and timid. Pale.

"_I don't recognise you."_

Gilbert closed his eyes, his teeth gritting as he threw the cigarette away, stomping his foot on the remnants.

In his dreams… he would see his teenage self. Gazing directly at him, talking _to _him. Golden eyes empty and devoid of emotion, of understanding. It made him feel cold. Alien.

"_What are you talking about?" _He had responded, his voice a deep baritone to contrast with the soft whisper of his youthful self. _"I'm you!"_

The child had smiled. It made Gilbert's heart turn to ice. That smile… was just as empty as his eyes. Just as hollow. The teen shook his head.

"_No. You seem familiar. But… different." _The boy had turned, already walking away to a place that Gilbert could not discern. They were still encased by blackness after all.

"_WAIT!" _He had cried out, reaching forth and extending his hand, hoping that the youth would pause, to turn back to face him, to _give him an explanation!_

Instead he was met with emptiness.

The child did not respond.

And Gilbert would wake up, his blood turned to ice within his very veins.

Even now he forced a dry chuckle, his teeth gritting together tightly as he rested his forehead against his knees.

He had no clue what these dreams meant. Why he had even dreamt about _himself_. But what he _did _know… was that the image of that small, once frightened child, his voice so soft and quiet it was barely a whisper upon the wind… and the deadened cold in those expressionless eyes… it scared him. Turned him to stone.

He inhaled deeply, slowly making to stretch and stand from his now uncomfortable position on the pebbled ground. Dusting himself off and carefully stowing his gun in the holster on his hip, he adjusted his hat across his eyes, effectively distracting himself from the sickening remains of that luckless contractor.

He could not dwell here any longer – he was due to report at Pandora within the hour. Turning his back he swiftly exited that narrow brick-lined path, his lithe form already long-gone the moment a woman's horrified scream rang shrilly through the air. The body had evidently been found.

He stuffed his hands within his coat pockets, cutting his mind off of his surroundings and only allowing himself to dwell on his next task. If he was in any other frame of mind, he would have laughed bitterly at the changes that had come upon him since that Coming of Age ceremony.

Little Gilbert, poor servant boy that he was, scared of everything including his own shadow – now a grown man and ruthless killer, all for the sake of earning the favour of some black winged Chain so he could rescue the only person that had actually _meant _something to him in his entire life. It was a sad, sad tale. Somehow only made all the more dismal with the recollection of that dream.

"_Who are you really? … I don't recognise you."_

The words rang loud and clear within his mind, the soft whisper of the boy's words a haunting melody. His chest tightened.

And for the first time in ten long years, Gilbert Nightray felt absolutely powerless. Not against contractors or Chains… but from the memory of himself.

* * *

"Thank you for your report, Gilbert-sama. I'll make sure Xerxes hears about it presently."

"Thank you, Reim."

The bespectacled man nodded, bowing courteously as he swept from the drawing room of the Reinsworth Manor. Gilbert sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand as he rolled his shoulders, alleviating the cramping of his muscles as he did so.

Today had been a tiring day on the whole.

It had taken a few hours to return to Pandora, and even longer still to give out his full report of Achilles' defeat to the dukes. Now he had returned to the Reinsworth Household with extra information he had kept hidden from the others. As per his… agreement… with the silver haired, red eyed Hatter.

"_How about being my left eye?"_ The clown had said what felt like a lifetime ago. _"In exchange I think we can help each other. You give me the information I want… and I'll see about aiding you with Raven." _

That had been their understanding, and as much as the black haired man was loathe to admit it, despite his oddities and his conniving ways Xerxes Break _had _kept to his word so far. Though for how much longer remained to be seen. Gilbert knew very well that he was being used. After all, he was just using the Hatter in return.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind he was about to leave when a niggling voice in the back of his head made him pause in his steps.

"_You're making a mistake…"_

He grit his teeth, a low growl passing his lips.

"Shut up…" Gilbert hissed quietly under his breath. "I don't want to deal with you right now."

A pained laugh was his response, the soft whisper of the child's voice fading away back into nothingness.

It had only been getting worse since the last dream.

Gilbert was sure he was going insane. There was no way that suddenly hearing his younger self communicating with him as if it was an act of his subconscious could be considered 'normal'. Though, with a dry chuckle, the man now resuming his exit from the household, what about _any _of this whole situation was _normal_?

Perhaps that was all it was. His subconscious. That voice in the back of your head. That was all it was. He was under a lot of stress.

For now that was what he would attribute it to.

After all… having encountered that same dream for the past three weeks… seeing his teenage self and being held prisoner by that unseeing, hollow gaze… it was enough to get on anyone's nerves. The fact that he was imaging him talking to himself when he was _awake _now really didn't surprise him.

_It's only a matter of time until this happened I suppose_, he thought bitterly.

Trying to kick the feeling free, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

_No use waiting around for that idiot Break to give me orders. I'm going home._

He lit the cigarette in his mouth and stormed outside, eager to just be left alone for once.

* * *

A month had passed.

He didn't know if it was for better or worse, but the trials and tribulations, the blood and the killing – the incessant killing, killing, _killing_…

It had all paid off.

It had finally… all paid off.

He collapsed against the stone floor, sweat beading in his brow as his weakened body trembled with the exertion to keep himself upright.

He was weak, dizzy and light-headed – his vision swimming as he willed himself to stay awake.

His left hand tingled, burning with the evidence of the contract he had finally, _finally _made – after years of waiting for so, so _long_.

Raven…

He swallowed thickly.

Raven was now his.

Or should he say – he was now Raven's?

"_Shall I call you Raven, Pandora style?" _Break had teased not so long ago, the silver haired man exiting the basement of the Nightray Household with a sly smile upon his lips. Gilbert had ignored him.

His mind was only focused on one thing, and one thing only. He now had the power, the _means_, to pull his beloved master from that hellhole he had been lost to for ten years.

He felt his eyes burning with pending tears of relief.

_Finally_… _Young… Master…_

He fell forwards, his world going black. The last thing he saw before his vision faded was a young boy standing before him, golden eyes seeming to pierce through his very soul.

* * *

"I told you, didn't I?"

He groaned, blinking the darkness free from his vision as he slowly came to, Gilbert lifting a hand and squeezing his eyes shut once more when his irises were assaulted by a bright, fierce light. He cussed, his brain feeling like it had exploded.

"Who… who's there?" He rasped, trying to find the source of the voice that had spoken, rousing him from his deep sleep. He could hear footsteps inch closer, and he tried to focus his hearing so he could discern from what direction they were approaching.

"The fact that you don't even know… just who _are _you?" The voice continued, soft and yet so full of loud clarity that Gilbert almost jumped up, the words sounding so close to his ear. His breath hitched, his heart pounding furiously in his chest as he managed to keep his eyes open, his expression morphing into a look of coherent disbelief when he saw nothing but blue… blue sky… and sunlight.

… _What?_

Movement sounded from nearby again and he gasped, the raven haired man jolting forwards and tensing. Immediately he wished he hadn't. Blinding pain seared through his brain, the black haired man hissing in agony and gripping his pounding forehead.

"S-shit…" He cussed, his voice hoarse. "Wh… where…"

"Open your eyes. Look."

Despite himself Gilbert found himself obeying, unable to go against the saddened pull of those soft words. The voice sounded so familiar… he grunted, willing his eyes to stop watering as he tried to focus, blinking once, twice, and then finally, slowly managing to glance blearily around.

What he saw made his heart stop.

_This is…_

"Yes."

He didn't even question how whomever it was nearby him seemed to read his thoughts, as at that moment all that Gilbert could focus on was the warm rays of sunlight caressing his body, the breeze fragrant and cool. He was sitting on a grassy hillock, the unmistakable towers of the Vessalius Manor rising high before him.

A clearing of trees was close by, the fields large and immaculate. The more his focus strengthened, the more he became aware of _exactly _what he was seeing.

_This…_

His eyes wavered, his lips trembling.

_This is…_

He swallowed thickly.

_This is that memory… of when…_

"Gil! Come on! I'll leave you behind if you don't hurry up!"

Gilbert froze.

_That voice…_

He slowly turned his head.

_That… voice!_

"Oz…"

The word passed his lips before he could stop himself. And sure enough, laughter – sweet, beautiful laughter as pure and as clear as it had been the first time he had ever heard it filtered through the air. And then he saw him. Young, lithe and beaming happily – his blond hair catching the golden rays of the sun, seeming to give him an angelic appearance as he glowed, racing along as fast as his legs would carry him. His emerald eyes shone like deep pools of the purest green, and he sprinted past – not a care in the world.

Gilbert felt his eyes dampen.

"Oz…"

His chest tightened. His stomach flipped. Without knowing why, he slowly extended his hand, his fingers trembling as he reached feebly out.

_Oz…_

_Young… Master…_

Oz didn't appear to notice him. He raced past, not even looking back. Gilbert's chest tightened, painfully this time.

His fingers dropped.

Movement from next to him caught his attention, and it wasn't until the boy stepped into view that Gilbert finally realised who it was that had brought him here, to this memory untarnished by nightmare. He could only stare, only watch as his fourteen year old self stood next to him, wide golden eyes focused solely on the blond running freely past them, still laughing and crying out joyfully. It was then that Gilbert noticed that something glistened down his younger self's cheeks. The boy was crying.

And he felt his entire body go still.

_Why am I… crying?_

He realised that now was the only time he had studied the youth closely – and here he afforded himself some few moments to take in the lean, skinny form of the boy, his pale cheeks and his hair still unruly and wavy even back then.

So alike… and yet so different.

So very different.

He swallowed thickly, trying to find the words to speak.

"This… isn't real. Is it?" He whispered. The boy didn't remove his gaze from the blond youth. He shook his head. Gilbert felt a wave of despair wash over him. No matter how much he had wished… even for a moment…

"This, like everything else in your mind, even me… is a memory." The teen murmured, his soft voice wavering. Gilbert fell silent, watching the young boy closely. They were so alike… but not…

Reddened golden eyes slowly turned to focus on his own. Gilbert felt his breath catch at the intensity of that stare – that melancholy expression. What was once so emotionless before… was now giving way to raw emotion. The boy was hurting. _He _was hurting…

"But… if it's a memory… then why are you… showing me this? Why are you even here? Why do you exist?!" Gilbert's voice was raised, every question he had been meaning to ask himself since this whole business had begun all those months ago now tumbling into one. The man felt that he would break from the weight on his shoulders, on his heart. He needed answers. And he needed them now.

_Why am I doing this?!_

"_You_?" The boy whispered, wide golden eyes now narrowing. Gilbert froze. The teenager continued to fix him with that melancholy gaze. He was wise, Gilbert realised. Back when he was younger, everyone had always called him an idiot. Useless. But he was beginning to quickly realise that this was not the case.

The child laughed, the sound faint, breathless. Haunting.

"Who _are _you, exactly?" The boy questioned, an eyebrow raising. Gilbert's hands clenched.

"Why do you keep asking that?" He hissed, his voice low. He narrowed his eyes at his younger self, now feeling anger boiling away at him from inside. "Why do you always ask me that?! I'm you! Gilbert Nightray!" He shouted.

"YOU'RE WRONG!"

Gilbert blinked, his mouth falling open. Of all the responses he would have received from the young boy, the sudden harsh yell of those two words from his lips, the teen's hands fisting by his sides and his expression turning livid with angry tears was certainly the last thing he would have expected.

The teenager rounded on him, approaching quickly. Gilbert could only blink, gazing up completely rigid as small hands fisted in the folds of his jacket, the man now face to face with his enraged younger half. He could see, could _feel _the raw emotion coursing through his teenage self. But what hurt him the most… was that that emotion… was hate.

Pure…

_Hatred. _

"You call yourself Gilbert Nightray… but what gives you the right to say that you're me?!" The boy continued, his soft voice now a high yell. He shook the older man by the shoulders, hot tears pooling down his cheeks as his vision swam.

"What gives you that right… when the man called Gilbert Nightray would do _anything _for his master! Oz Vessalius – my Young Master – was dragged into Abyss, and I couldn't save him! I couldn't do anything! And you call yourself me? You had TEN YEARS! Bocchan… Young Master… has been in Abyss for all that time! And WHAT DID YOU DO?!" He was shaking the man violently now, yelling himself hoarse. The black haired man could only gaze stunned, his golden eyes wide and fearful. He was completely frozen, completely captivated… completely afraid.

"Killing, lying, carrying out orders for someone _other _than your master! I loved Oz! _We _loved him! We still do! If you really cared about him you wouldn't have abandoned your very existence, your very _promise _to him for the sake of a Chain! So I'm telling you once more. Don't you _dare_ use the name Gilbert Nightray in front of me EVER AGAIN, _RAVEN!_"

Those hands fisting tightly in his clothing shoved away, the boy falling to his knees on the grass and burying his head in his hands, his shoulders wracking with the trembling weight of his sobs as he gave into his grief.

But Gilbert could only watch, his eyes seeing yet unseeing. His body feeling yet unfeeling. His mind… was broken.

Those words had cut through his heart like a knife slices through flesh, leaving a stinging, gaping wound open, bleeding and raw inside of him.

He shook, a hand slowly lifting to grip his head.

Warmth dripped onto his shirt, and he knew that he was crying.

_Raven…_

He was right… Gilbert – the boy, the man could no longer be called that name – was right.

_What have… what have I done?_

Raven…

Had he truly been so blinded by his stupidity? By his goal to obtain the Chain which would cause him more torment, more loss of life and pride? More loss of love?

Ten years… he had wasted ten years… every promise he had made to his master, his bocchan…

He closed his eyes, a strangled cry choking in his throat.

Every promise was broken.

_Raven…_

It all made sense now.

"_Who are you really?"_

He was Raven.

He never was Gilbert Nightray.

He was a fake.

"B-bocchan…"

The man called Raven slowly lifted his head, his reddened eyes focusing on the weak, feeble, now broken form of Gilbert hunched over in front of him, pearly tears dripping onto his hands as he fisted them in the grass. His soft voice was hoarse, raw with emotion.

"I just wanted to see him again… t-to be held again and… told everything would be ok… like how it used to be…"

Raven slowly reached out a trembling hand, entwining gloved fingertips in amongst soft strands of wavy black hair. Gilbert slowly lifted his head, the boy's expression truly broken.

"Why?" He whispered, sniffling. "Why did this have to happen? Why did we…?"

Raven silently reached out, wrapping muscled arms around Gilbert's shaking frame, pulling him close against his larger chest. The boy cried, burying his face against the man's neck, seeking any form of warmth to somehow fill the void in his heart, the void which had left them both hollow for ten years. Raven closed his eyes, silent tears of his own dripping down his cheeks as he held the youth closer, rubbing that small back and resting his chin atop the soft mass of black locks.

The only form of comfort available to them now was that of each other – those two who had been connected solely by their love for Oz Vessalius. That love which would never be returned.

"Raven…" Gilbert whimpered, fisting small hands against the folds of that black coat once again. "_Why?_"

Raven removed a gloved hand from the boy's back, clasping it gently around pale, cold fingers. A saddened smile formed on his lips as the boy slowly lifted his head, trying his best to cease the flow of tears down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Gil." He whispered, his deep voice somehow soothing to the distressed mind of the teen. "I never meant to…"

A smile, barely visible yet still there nonetheless, formed slowly on pale soft lips. The boy closed his eyes as Raven moved to thumb away the tears, resting his forehead against the youth's own. The warmth was greatly accepted – it was the only thing which made them think, made them _feel _through their overwhelming grief. Two beings who were so different, yet so alike. The same person split in two.

"You called me Gil." The boy mumbled. Raven nodded. Gilbert sniffled again. "Oz used to call me that."

Raven moved to gently cup either side of the boy's cheeks with his fingers, carefully holding the frail youth close. He leant forward, guided by his grief as he desperately sought to give the teen what he needed… what _they _needed.

Recognition. Acceptance. Safety.

…

Love.

"I'll call you that from now on." Raven murmured softly as he hovered warm lips against that pale, trembling mouth. Gil closed his eyes, his fingers fisting tighter in folds of clothing.

"Thank you…" He whispered, his voice barely audible.

Raven pressed down, warmth flooding their bodies and minds even as their mouths met as one. Slow, gentle and deep – their lips touched. Each kiss full of meaning, each kiss slowly working to mend their broken hearts. Tasting of sunshine, lavender and musk – everything they loved – they clung to each other, soft whimpers parting their mouths as a plea for more, to not let go.

Hands fisted gently through black locks, bodies shifted, and Raven guided Gil onto his lap, pulling the boy closer as the youth wound his arms around the older man's neck, deepening their contact as their hearts pounded and thumped, their lips shyly moving in an increasing crescendo as they swallowed breathless moans and gasps.

Love, acceptance and sorrow – regret and despair lay long forgotten as they fell into the safety, the haven of each other. And as a warm tongue slowly touched along that bottom lip, Gil groaning faintly and immediately granting the other access to gently work, tease and relax, the two's minds overcome with a sense of understanding, devotion and _belonging_, their tears soon ceased to exist as the sun slowly sunk down behind the tree line in this private haven of their minds and bodies – the night sky rising and shrouding the two in the safety of darkness.

There were many things that they had loved about the sun.

But it was only the darkness through which they could truly be bound.

And the strongest bond – even as their hands clasped tightly together, Gil slowly being lowered against the grass as Raven leant over the boy, lips connected and sliding softly, _needfully _as one – was the bond between oneself.

**The End**


End file.
